The first day of my Freshman year I came to school and when I asked where my aid was, I was told that I wasn’t going to have one anymore.
So I started going to Content Mastery there were many other teachers and people that worked at the school that helped me and the other students who required differentiated educational strategies. There was also a room in my school called the “Content Mastery” room, where there were 3-4 tutors that helped with test taking and studying. If I had to take a test, I would go to this room, because if I wrote the answers myself it would look like chicken scratches on the paper and be completely illegible. My mouth has always worked extremely well, but my hands only half as well. So, the tutors in the content mastery room would write the answers that I would tell them so that I could take my tests without giving away the answers to all the other students in the class.

Because I had special needs in school, I built stronger relationships with the staff than the average kid would. I had an English teacher named Sharon Reep (Mrs. Reep). Toward the end of my freshman year, she told us that her siblings used to call her “Blondie”. I don’t remember how this tied into the lesson, but when I was leaving that day after class, I said, “See ya later, Blondie”. The rest of the class gasped, expecting her to be angry, but she loved it. She thought it was funny. We are still in contact to this day, and she has opened up to me that she was intimidated when I rolled into her class in my wheelchair. She thought that I was going to be a lot of extra work and she wasn’t sure what I would require. It took some time, but she realized that her preconceived notions were wrong. I was lazy, a loudmouth, the class clown, smart assed, but I was smart. Besides the chair and the less than agile hands, my brain operated as normal, and I was just as obnoxious, if not more so, than most other boys my age. I spent time talking with Mrs. Reep while she graded papers. I was friends with her sons Jason and Jared. In college, Jason brought me a signed baseball. I’ve had dinner at the principal’s house with his family. I had my economics teacher over to watch movies with me. Liz and I stayed in contact until she passed away in 2011 from lung cancer.
When I was in school, everyone liked me. I had wheels and nobody ever had a problem with me. I had two types of teachers. I had the teachers that didn’t know what to do with me, and I had the ones that liked me. The teachers that didn’t know what to do with me didn’t always like me, but they couldn’t find a way to give me a detention, because the principal always liked me, and would refute any punishment that was coming.
. I was bulletproof through school.
Some might say that the reason I was “bulletproof” was because of my chair. And in some ways, that is true. Most people I meet don’t want to be themselves around me. They hide their true thoughts, because they are afraid of offending the person in the wheelchair. If you say something mean to someone who is your own age and stature, that’s considered ok, but if you say something mean to a person in a wheelchair, you are suddenly a low life cripple-hater. I got turned down by a lot of girls in high school and college, and they would always attest that “it’s got nothing to do with the chair”. Of course it has something to do with the chair. It’s part of who I am. They just didn’t want to tell me the truth because of their fear. So, I digress, being “bulletproof” is a two-edged sword. People can be exceedingly nice to you, but it is difficult to know who is being true to their character and who is wearing a mask.
People that have come into my life that are honest, legitimate, and not intimidated by me are invaluable friends. These are the people you want to surround yourself with in life. They will help you progress and get where you need to be on your life journey. Expect there to be only few people that fit into this category. They are very rare and hard to find, but if you find someone that seems to “fit” like this, you should preserve those relationships at all costs.

Because of this, I was never afraid to approach my teachers. I wasn’t self-conscious like many developing adolescents are. I can’t speak for every handicapped person, but being in a wheelchair made me less self-conscious. If I had stopped to think about what other people were thinking about me, I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere. I never really got self-conscious until I got to college. Looking back, I can see that high school was a lot more fun to me than college, and I think that it was largely because of my confidence at that time in my life. When we let our inhibitions about ourselves take over, it pulls us back from advancing and doing the things we want to do in life.

My freshman year of high school was literally the best year of my life thus far. Every day I would come home after school each day loving my life. Freshman year is supposed to be terrifying, scary, and difficult according to most advisors and school counselors. It’s described as a very difficult transition in one’s life. But for me, it was the opposite of that. It was my best year. One of the reasons I had a great year was because of Tracy in my speech class. She was a beautiful blonde who decided I would be her “puppy dog”. On our first day of class, we had a socialization exercise where we all moved around and got to know each other. I was in my wheelchair, so I had to move around the outside, not into the rows of student chairs. Most of the students were a bit “lost”, as freshman high school students are. Mingling doesn’t come naturally to most of us. Tracy approached me and introduced herself. She told me that she played volleyball and basketball, and invited me to come see her games. I was so enamored with Tracy that I could only nod. If I were standing, I would be weak in the knees. Tracy was nothing short of amazing. That year, I spent a lot of time with Tracy watching her games and hanging out with her in “puppy dog” fashion. In short, I had a huge crush. She had awesome upper class friends that I got to spend time with, like the quarterback on the football team. She liked to party, and was a fun, fiery girl full of happiness and spirit. This was 1994, and Cheryl Crowe had just come out with the record Tuesday Night Music Club, including the hit All I Wanna Do. Tracy loved this song. It became “our” song, even though we were only friends. As an adult, I can understand that she enjoyed playing and toying with me. We never dated, but at that time in my life I was in love, and that made it the best year of my life. Of course, I could have complained and depressed myself because Tracy and I were not lovers, but I was happy with what I had.

Because of Tracy, as a freshman I got to associate with upper classmen. As an adult this might not seem like a big deal, but for a 14 year old boy, this is huge. One of the memories that really sticks out in my mind from that year was when Dmitri, a senior and the quarterback for the football team, caught me in the hallway and motioned for me to come over to him. He was standing there with his girlfriend, who was also nothing short of a spectacular girl. She was a medium-height gorgeous brunette named Erika. Dmitri pulled a hundred dollar bill from his pocket. A hundred dollars was a lot of money back then. A hundred dollar bill is still a lot of money today. He said, “I’m going to ask you a question, and if you can give me the right answer, this $100 is yours.” I looked at the crisp bill questioningly. “If you had the choice, would you hang out with me, or my girlfriend?” asked Dmitri. “Well, duh!” I answered. “She’s hot! I would definitely hang out with Erika.” With that, Dmitri smiled and said, “I’m keeping my $100.” He stuffed the bill back into his wallet, which I found out later that day was a bill his mother had given him before school that morning. It was funny and a memory that stands out to me even now. Dmitri and Tracy both went to Eastern New Mexico University after graduating high school. What makes this memory special isn’t really the hundred dollar bill. I’ve seen other hundred dollar bills in my life since high school, but this one was special because of the memory of the people involved.

As I said before, I still managed to have a great time despite the lack of typical freedoms. I always got good grades and look back on my experiences with fondness.

Despite being in a wheelchair throughout high school, and spending a lot of time with a girl I was absolutely in love with who was not interested in me romantically, it was the best year of my life. Unlike most high school students, I never went to one high school party. I rode in a not-so-hot van to school every day, so that wasn’t really conductive to party traveling. I never had a real date. But despite all of these things, looking back at my experiences, it’s the positive memories that surface first. Sometimes appreciating our lives is more about seeing it for all of the good things rather than looking at all of the shortcomings. I never look back on those years with sadness or regret for what wasn’t there, but I remember them for what was there.

I’m not going to sugar-coat it though. There were some tough pills to swallow along the way. If you look back on your high school and early college times, you probably have fond memories of the freedoms allowed in your coming of age. You probably remember your first car, the ultimate symbol of budding maturity and newfound potential to rebel against the confines of traffic laws and parental control. If you had even a part time job, you suddenly had your own money to spend on anything you would like to purchase. High school is also a time of endless opportunities for adventure. Between the sporting events, school dances, mixers, music concerts, and festivals, the school made sure you were constantly entertained and had ample opportunity to leave your homes and not return until well after curfew.
I traveled in a van. My mother drove that van. This might be enough information to fully explain the situation, but I will go further. I love my mom, and I appreciate all she has done for me, but it’s really hard to pick up chicks with your mom hanging around with you playing the role of chauffer. There’s nothing suave about trying to whisper to your mom, “Hey, I’m going to roll off to the bathroom, ok?” The jobs I had were in school, and while I am secretly grateful that one must stand up to flip burgers, which forever eliminates me as a possible candidate for that position, it may have been nice to have one of those bottom-level jobs with an inherent lack of supervision so that I could have a little bit more freedom. I had friends in school, but like most young people, they were not confident in van-driving. Most teenagers are terrified behind the wheel, and the thought of driving a Ford E-150 to go out cruising doesn’t really set the scene for a wild and crazy night out.

Sexy right?

I went to all the school dances and sporting events, so I didn’t miss out on the school’s entertainment, but for me, it didn’t provide the same levels of freedom that it does for most high school students.

I managed to graduate, on to the college years

I remember Liz Shelton would take notes for me, helped me study for tests, and would physically help me around. She was a redheaded woman in her mid-thirties who actually lived down the street from me with her husband and kids. She was one of the people in my life who would treat me like I was a “normal” person without wheels. I remember this having its advantages and disadvantages. I liked that she didn’t talk to me like I was a baby, but at the same time she wouldn’t take any guff from me. At the time, I was wearing leg braces. Technological advances between 1990 and now have introduced a lot of advances in equipment for people with special needs. People without the leg strength to keep their knees from bending and falling out from under them used a standing box. I had metal leg braces that went all the way up to my hips on both sides with locks on both knees and knee pads. They were made of some sort of cheap plastic material, and would cause your skin to sweat incessantly. It was less than pleasant. In school, I wore these braces and I stood in the standing box, which modern technology has developed into the “standing frame”, which is much fancier and looks far more comfortable. The standing box was less efficient than the equipment available today. The box was literally just a wooden box that was just big enough for my body to fit into it with a door on one side so that I could get in. Liz would help me in and out of this box which was clearly made by someone especially for me to avoid the costs of purchasing a fancy one. During my years in school, I was the only person who needed a standing box.

Just like other people from my generation, there are certain “inside jokes” that followed us. There was a commercial for an elderly care product where the female actress feigns a fall and then says “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up”. Liz once gave me a shirt that said “I’m talking and I can’t shut up”. I can write, but it’s not very legible, so even when I was doing homework I was speaking and dictating so that Liz could write out my answers. Basically, I was talking all the time. This may be one reason why I became such an avid speaker on the radio, but it also meant that I became “less good” at keeping my mouth shut. So, the shirt was appropriate, I suppose. It was an interesting gift that I won’t ever forget.

I Did laps around the gym through grade school in my manual chair for PE.
The janitor of both the junior high and highschool is still a friend of mine. Curtis…decided he would offer me a job. For the PE period every day, he would tie a shop broom to the back of my chair and it would pick up papers and small pieces of trash in the hallways as I rolled along. The broom dragged behind me, and when I saw something that needed to be swept up, I rolled over it so that the broom dragging behind my chair would catch it. That became my PE time. Instead of going around in circles in the gym, I rolled around the school and collected trash with my broom. After PE class, I would get $1. A dollar might not sound like much, but I could get a soda at lunchtime and a snack. A dollar is a lot for a kid in the 90’s.

There was a day that I made Liz mad. I don’t remember what I did to make her mad, but I got a detention slip from Liz…a little purple piece of paper that I had to witness her filling out. The whole time she was filling out the slip, I was laughing. The more I laughed, the angrier she became. Finally, PE period rolled around and I told Curtis about Liz filling out the detention slip for me. Curtis put mop oil on my handles. I finished my job and wheeled myself back to the nurse’s office where Liz was waiting. Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face until Liz grabbed hold of the handles. Immediately, she went to the sink and used a ridiculous amount of paper towels trying to wash the oil off of her hands. The entire Junior High was meeting in the auditorium for an assembly. She wheeled me to the principal and told me to confess of my tricky sin to him. I told him. He laughed, patted me on the shoulder, and walked away.

I was THE MAN in Highschool I had wheels before anyone else

I hung out with a guy named Dave a lot after school was out. I spent the majority of my time in his backyard hanging out and playing games with he and his family. At that time in my life, I didn’t realize that my personality can be abrasive to some people. Other people have a problem being honest with me because of my wheelchair. Dave probably wanted to do other things than hang out with me all the time, but how could he tell a guy in a wheelchair that he had other things to do, or that I was cramping his style? When we graduated from High School, Dave went off to Texas Tech, which was pretty far from my house. At that time, there weren’t the technological advances that allow for easy communication between people who are far apart. I went from hanging out with Dave every day to not seeing him at all, ever. He came by a few times, and I see him every few years, but we aren’t best buddies anymore.

I tend to be overbearing at times. The story about Dave is a good example of that. I was in his life and business all the time. I have one of those personalities that never tires of people. I don’t like to be alone. I’m not afraid of being alone, but I don’t like to be. I enjoy being in constant contact with my friends, and always being available. I’m one of those people that doesn’t “smother” easily. You know what I’m talking about, especially those of you of the female variety. You’re spending a lot of time talking with someone, and suddenly they start calling you more than you like, sending you more emails than you prefer, and always saying “hello” if they see you online. Meanwhile, you run off and text your friends that you are being “smothered” by this other person, right? I AM THAT PERSON! Luckily, I’m more aware of other people’s feelings now than I was when I was in high school. I still don’t understand how a person can feel smothered by basic friendliness or desire for conversation. I still don’t read signals well. I prefer that people just tell me openly if they need more or less of me. I don’t take hints well. I suck at hints. Women LOVE to hint at things. Let me repeat: I suck at hints! Just be honest! Even though I’m in a chair, you can be honest with me. I’m a big boy and I can handle the truth, if I only knew what that truth was.
When I met people in college, it was very hard for me to know what the social rules were. You never know what the “threshold” is until you’ve broken through it, and communicated too often or too much. My grating personality has been an ongoing source of difficulty. I’m a devoted friend. Perhaps some people perceive that as smothering.

I didn’t give up on people and this happened

There is a certain expectation for the behavior of people in wheelchairs. I have a loud and outgoing personality at times. This isn’t accepted well by many people. There are those who believe my personality is a cover-up for some sort of insecurity when they first meet me, but this really is just the kind of person I am. Just because I’m in a wheelchair doesn’t mean that I am quiet and shy, or that I am always “Mr. Nice Wheelchair Guy”. People with disabilities are unique individuals just like the rest of the world, and thusly have unique personalities. When it comes right down to it, I’m just a guy and I’m just going to say it out loud, I love women.

I don’t pretend to know everything about everything. For example, I am clueless when it comes to women. I struggle with women. I have zero control over the dating portion of my life. Even in friendships with women, I am completely baffled.

Women enjoy availability. But not when you are TOO available.
Women enjoy when you are sweet to them, but not TOO sweet. There’s a thin line between sweet and desparate.
Women enjoy attention, but too much attention makes them call you “overbearing” and “stalkerish”.
Women often say they want honesty and a straightforward answer to things, but DO NOT EVER tell her the truth! The moment you tell her that your favorite part about her looks is a body part below the chin, you are in the doghouse.

I know there is a line drawn between too available and not available enough, too little attention and stalker-ish. As a man, I am completely unaware of where that “line” is drawn. I seem to always fall on the far side of the line.

“I know what we are doing next year for your birthday if I get to be a big star!”
“You’re doing it again.”

The communication gap between men and women is well documented if you put her wheelchair in the mix it gets to be even more fun.

All jokes aside I feel like human beings have a hard time communicating with each other. When I’m out in public I feel like a three ring circus. I’m always being watched. I assume this is because people have questions about my situation and are afraid to ask. Instead they try to avoid catching my eye and in extreme cases, act like I’m invisible. I’ll never forget going through on airport with a very close friend of mine. Every airport employee that we met, who had a question regarding my flight or my luggage, came to him and completely overlooked with me as though I wasn’t there. Finally after several instances of this, he looked at me and said “dude, why don’t they talk to you, especially when the question has to do with you? I said very simply they are afraid. We live in a politically correct society and no one wants to make a mistake by saying or doing the wrong thing, especially with a guy in a wheelchair. I told my friends jokingly that some of those people were probably afraid that if I got agitated, I might have a seizure right in the middle of the airport. It sounds absurd, but after years of observation I truly believe that people don’t engage someone that they are unsure of in any way. I should have Women wanting dates in a line from my door going on the way around the block. Think about it. They would have a great parking everywhere we went. They would never have to stand in line, because well…. I bring my own chair and would never get upset about a pretty girl in my lap. They would also have someone always willing to hold their purse. I’m already in the wheelchair, so no other man is going to make fun of me for holding a woman’s purse. Even if it’s pink and has hello Kitty on it. I’d love to run a social experiment. Put Tom Brady or Derek Jeeter in a chair, roll camera, and just see what happens. The results might surprise us all. Would you guys watch that? I know I would.

I remember calling and setting up a meeting with Dr. Leigh Browning, the director of broadcasting at West Texas A&M University . I didn’t know that day, but I found out later, The day I met with her was a day in the middle of June and she was in the middle of running the Guy P Yates Speech and Theater camp. More on that later. She was literally wearing a visor, shorts, and had a tan. I was beaten down at that point and discouraged by most of my Community College experience. I explained to her that I had just spent 3 years at at the school that shall not be named. I told her, “I understand that I can’t be on the air. I can’t …..” This was basically a 45 melodramatic monologue from me. She let me go on and on, loathing in self-pity. All of this with my mother sitting next to me. The whole time Dr Leigh had this look on her face

When I was done she leaned over her desk, looked me in the eye and said “You will be on my air. You will be on my staff, and you will graduate from here.” Within a week of my starting there in the fall, I was on the air. Their studio wasn’t as advanced as the The place that shall not be named, but it worked better for me and my chair. I had to take 2 television classes where you had to pick up a camera and learn to shoot video. When I got to those classes, I would go to her and ask her what I should do. She assigned an assistant for me to carry the camera. There was nothing that she let me “get out” of because of my wheelchair. I did everything that everyone else did.

My first day, she walked into the class and said, “I’ll tell you right now, there isn’t anyone tougher on students than I am, but if you can get through this class, you can make it anywhere.” It was the complete opposite of my other experience.
Up to that point, nobody had ever really had the balls to tell me when I had made a mistake. Dr Leigh knew how to yell if you messed up she told you about it, loudly most of time. She was not afraid to yell at me the only difference was she often started with the phrase, “I know I’m going to go to hell for saying this…but…”
She was a tough lady, and I owe so much to her.

The 45 minute melodrama never happened again. When I would go into her office, she would have me tell her what was my issue, she would give me a solution, and she would tell me to go. She was busy. She was more like a boss than a college teacher, and this was perfect for me.
There have been times when I stepped out of line and said something I shouldn’t have. There were a lot of days that I didn’t like her, and we didn’t get along. She would tell me that I am just like everyone else, and I can’t talk to other people like I’m the boss. She’s the only one who gets to do that. I have nothing but respect for her.

She helped me fill out my vote for the awards ceremony for the radio station. “Most Improved On Air Personality”. I told her I wanted to put myself. She said, “You can’t put yourself. You were good when you came here.” She gave me confidence in what I was doing.

She kept us busy. It was the closest thing to a real job I’ve ever had. We always had a project, or we were doing some kind of community service when we were not in the studio doing the fun broadcasting stuff.

Community service was a requirement, not an option. if you weren’t willing to do community service, then you shouldn’t be in her program. That’s how she thought. Mass comm and speech communications students ran a camp every summer together for gifted high school kids who were interested in improving their skills in speech and theater. It was “working” Camp. This kids came to get better at what they did, not sit around the campfire.

We helped out with Christmas stuff for the needy, coats for kids. We would work on Saturdays and Sundays sometimes, whatever was needed. If you are a Mass COM student and you had a lot of downtime you were doing it wrong.

I’ll never forget the final project for one of Dr. Leigh’s favorite classes. It was called the Canyon Weekly, named after the town the school was in. Canyon, TX. We were a news team. Every single week your job would change. Everyone in the class would. work together put together a newscast like you see on TV. The final exam for this particular class was that the last show for that semester had to be perfect before she would let us go. Perfect means just what it sounds like. If the news anchors for that week missed one single word, or someone ran a commercial early we started over. This happened until we did it right She did this on a Saturday morning at 4am. My dad drove me to school that particular day, “Why in this on a Saturday? ” The whole time, my dad would argue that she can’t require you to is this happening on a Saturday? You are paying to go to school here, they can’t require this of you. She must understand you’re in a wheelchair and it’s a hardship on us to get you here” finally as we pulled into the parking lot i looked at my dad and said “Do YOU want to go to her office and tell her there’s a problem? Because I don’t!”

There’s no question. All of the podcasts and things that I have, my job in Second Life, I wouldn’t have any of that if it wasn’t for this program. She taught us to adapt. Everything that I am came from that experience. There were days I thought Dr. Leigh was a wack-job. A nutter. A crazy. It wasn’t until we got to be better friends after I graduated that we could really talk about her reasoning behind things. I can’t say that I rose to the point of being her “equal”, because she will always be my teacher and I give her that respect, but after graduating I did notice that after I graduated I moved up the ranks a bit, allowing me more freedom to voice my opinions and such. Dr. Leigh passed away recently. it was not unexpected and she was very young. I was very sad when I found out because she had some idea of the projects I was working on, and that I was trying very hard to be one of her success story’s to be honest, I’m hoping this website becomes a huge success because I’m having to use every skill she gave me to make it happen. I wanted her to see me go from being a guy in wheelchair, who lived with his parents, to a guy in a wheelchair helping millions of people using the skills she gave me. If the site goes big I’ll feel like I have lived up to the expectations she had of me.

When I was a senior in high school, I was recruited by the radio and TV program at the local community college. They guy who ran it came and told me he wanted me to be part of his program. I went to see this studio and see what they had. I’ll never forget that day. They were in the process of remodeling the studio. The studio was being redone, and they were putting up state of the art equipment, newer computer technology and doing away with CDs. When I went to see the studio, the guy asked me “What do you think you are going to need here?” I told him “Just give me a stack of CDs and a mic, and I’ll be the best you’ve got.” He looked at me and said, “You’re not a DJ, you’re an entertainer.” I’ll never forget his words as long as I live. It’s stayed with me even to this day. I may have talent and I may be a disc jockey, but I’m more of an entertainer and a radio personality.
When I started to take classes, I discovered that their rule was that freshman involved in the program weren’t allowed to be on air or touch any of the radio equipment. I wasn’t pleased with this rule. The guy running the program would put me on the air when he thought nobody was paying attention. The board did find out, and didn’t like that I was a freshman who was getting air time. They had just redone the studio, and the new setup was tall. I couldn’t reach anything. The screens were all touch screen, but I couldn’t reach any of them because they were set up so high. In radio, there are two types of consoles. At this Community College, they built the console so that the talent would stand, which gives the voice more support.

As a college freshman, I didn’t know I could choose my own classes. I went to a counselor and got a class schedule like everyone else, but I didn’t realize some of the same classes were offered at different times. I had an 8am history class that I was late to every day. If you’ve ever tried to sneak into the back of a room for anything…it doesn’t matter if it’s a church, a classroom, you’re going to make noise. It doesn’t matter how quiet you try to be. There was one day I rolled in 10 or 15 minutes late. He saw me and said, “Mr. Jordan, why are you late for my class”. I replied, “To be honest sir, I was chasing a girl.” He asked me, “Did you catch her?” I replied, “No sir, the battery died and she got away.” Everyone laughed. After the class was over I went up to apologize for being late, but the professor told me I could be late every day if I wanted as long as I came in with a good one-liner to wake up the class. It was my first regular stand-up (sit-down) comedy gig! He let me sit in on classes that I wasn’t enrolled for just because it changed the dynamic of the classroom and kept the students more awake to learn.

I was told at one point, after about a year that I needed to choose another degree, because I had to wait for technology to catch up with me. I didn’t take that well. I said “no” and continued doing what I was doing. When they figured out that I wasn’t going to stop taking the communications classes and pursuing that degree. They substituted a lot of classes so that I could get my associates degree. I was very upset about that. My dad even started to doubt my abilities to do the job after graduating.

I have a friend named Deena E. who is disabled was is a local DJ here in town. I shadowed her during my first semester in college. That is one of the assignments that we had, to choose a radio personality, contact them and shadow them.

At one low point, after a year or so of struggle I told Deena that I was considering quitting, because it was just so hard. Deena pretty much said that if I quit, she’s going to kick my ass. She told me that it’s not about my not being able to reach things in the studio, it’s not about my having a drunken-sounding voice because of my condition, you can do this job. Se reassured me that I could do it. Deena it about 4 feet tall and 90 lbs. They make burritos bigger than Deena. Seeing that she could do this job helped me to see that there would be a future for me. She advised me to go to a the local university when my time at community college was done. I did just that

Despite my struggles at the Community college. I met many good people there that helped me make it through. Just like my previous years in school. They were there when I needed them most. Two in particular are the man in the story above, who goes by the name of Brian Farmer. You always told me I would be great like Horatio Alger rags to riches all because I knew how to make people laugh. Another is Margie Vitale. Margie did a lot of work to get me through classes very similar to what someone like Liz did for me in my earlier years. Without her I most certainly would have failed. A quick search of the Internet tells me that both of these people are still working today. Maybe if this blog Is successful, I should pay them both a visit. I wonder yes they would remember me? Because of people like these it took about three years but I got that Associates degree.

And then there was Dr Leigh

Let’s go back to the 1980’s and talk about me going to school. There are a few memories I have of going to school. I rode on the short bus. Everyone knows what the short bus is. You all probably know lots of jokes about this short bus. It’s not all that funny when you’re on it. It’s pretty much like the long bus, just shorter. I also remember having a lot of “resource classes”. You may not know what resource classes are, but in jokes it’s called the “special class”. Yes, I was a very “special” boy. I had a special chair, special teachers, a special room, and extra-special friends. Of course, in our culture everyone is special. Barney even says so in his song “You Are Special” …everyone in his or her own way, or so the song says.
Despite all of this “special-ness” someone eventually figured out that, for lack of better phrasing, my brain worked. I was in the “special” classes until the end of the 4th grade. Over that summer, I had to learn how to stop drooling and coerce with intelligent peers. I’ve always been a good speaker, or at least I have always had a big mouth and have been ready to use it whenever given the chance. At the end of the 4th grade, my teachers decided to give me a chance to use my brain, and I was an integrated student the rest of my primary school years, until I graduated high school in 1998.

Movin on up